


Mockingbirds

by Crewe



Series: Kids These Days (CR2 Modern AU) [1]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Family Fluff, Gen, team dads
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-11
Packaged: 2019-03-15 10:05:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13611084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crewe/pseuds/Crewe
Summary: In a modern AU, Fjord juggles his life as a student, his job at a library, and looking after Jester and Beau in a rundown apartment on the bad side of town.Caleb just wants to get through the day and keeps Nott safe and happy.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> [this](http://cat-pics-from-zero.tumblr.com/post/170056685566/cr2-modern-au)
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> is an overview of my modern AU, in case anyone was curious
> 
> im planning a second chapter thats focused on caleb & nott, coming... soon

Fjord wakes abruptly to the insistent beeping of his alarm, his phone vibrating on the coffee table just in front of him. With a groan, he reaches out one hand and grabs it, rolling over on his back and pulling it towards him as he turns off the alarm. Six AM.

 

Groaning again, he pushes himself up off the couch, dropping his phone back on the table. The couch is too small for any reasonably sized humanoid, much less a fully-grown half-orc, but their double bed only fits two if they get cozy, and Fjord established long ago that he was not going to be one of them.

 

Sighing, he gets to his feet and stretches, trying to get the kinks out of his back. He scoops his phone up and drops it into his pocket, then makes for the small kitchen area that already smells like sickly sweet vanilla-flavored coffee.

 

As usual, Jester is already awake, munching happily on a day-old stale pastry with a giant, chipped mug of steaming coffee in front of her: the source of the smell. Fjord finally succeeded in getting her to stop drinking caffeine, at the price of only buying awful too-sweet flavored decaf. It’s more expensive, but worth the lower damage Jester on a caffeine-high does to their apartment.

 

“’Mornin’,” he mumbles as he walks by, sticking out one big hand to ruffle her hair, making her bedhead worse. She offers him a cheery return greeting around a mouthful of chocolate croissant. Well; he assumes that’s what she says. It’s really hard to make out anything at all coherent.

 

Plunking himself down at their little, rickety table with the makings for a bowl of cornflakes, Fjord looks around and frowns. “Where’s Beau?” he asks. “Isn’t she workin’ this morning?”

 

Jester swallows her mouthful of food and shrugs. “She is still sleeping,” she says, picking up her mug and taking a big swallow. “I told her to get up and she yelled at me.”

 

She doesn’t seem all that bothered by it, but Fjord sighs and rubs a hand across his face. “I’ll get her,” he says. “You goin’ out today?”

 

“Mm-hmm!” Jester hums cheerfully, pulling her holy symbol out from under her T-shirt. “We have a lot of fun things planned today!”

 

Fjord has been very careful not to dig too deep into the sorts of “fun things” Jester’s youth group at the temple to the Traveler get up to, and he’s looking to continue. “All right,” he says, waving her off. “Don’t get into too much trouble, now. You know I’ll be back late tonight, right?”

 

Jester hums an acknowledgment, stuffing the last of her pastry into her mouth. Fjord chuckles fondly and gets back up, bumping her shoulder with his knuckles as he walks back past her towards the rest of the apartment.

The door to the cramped bedroom creaks as he pushes it open, but there’s no response from the figure huddled under the blankets in the bed. Fjord sighs and nudges the bed with one leg.

 

“Beau,” he says.

 

There’s still no response, and he reaches out to shake her arm. “Beau, c’mon.”

 

Beauregard groans and shifts away from him. With a blustery sigh, Fjord yanks the blankets off, garnering another, louder groan in response.

 

“Let’s go, Beau, you told me you were workin’ this morning and we both need to get a move on.”

 

One blue eye opens and gives him a baleful look. “Go ‘way,” she mumbles.

 

“No can do, sorry,” Fjord says, crossing his arms. “We got shit to do, Beau.”

 

“Fuck off, you’re not my dad,” she mutters, and Fjord rolls his eyes and grabs her arm to haul her into a sitting position.

 

“Hey!”

 

“Do you need the bike to get to the dojo?” Fjord asks, deciding she’s acceptably awake now and moving around to the dresser to rifle through for jeans and a clean shirt.

 

Beau mutters under her a breath for a moment, then yawns and says, “No, I got a ride.”

 

Fjord raises an eyebrow and looks back at her over his shoulder. “From who?”

 

“From somebody. What’s it to you?” she shoots back.

 

“Just wonderin’,” Fjord says, grabbing his clothes out of the dresser. Beau’s in some kinda mood today, and he’s not gonna fight her. Especially not at six-fifteen in the morning. At least she’s up, now, as he leaves the bedroom he can hear her shuffling out of bed and yanking open the drawers of the dresser.

 

Fjord picks up his backpack where it’s leaning against the back of the old couch, dropping his clothes in it and checking to make sure he has his textbooks and the paper due today. Satisfied, he grabs his sweatshirt off its hook near the door and nearly trips over something in the doorway.

 

Bending down, he discovers the blue folder he’d left on the couch yesterday for Beau to find, the pages of class offerings at the community college now spread across the floor. She must have thrown it aside when she found it. With a sigh, he sweeps the papers back up, tucks them back in the folder, and takes the few steps to set it down on the coffee table. He doesn’t have the time nor the energy for that conversation right now.

 

He shakes his head and pulls his sweatshirt on, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. He calls out a general good-bye as he walks out the door, and gets a cheerful response from Jester and a grunt from Beau.

 

It’s cold out as he unlocks and unchains his bike, grateful as always to see it still there. He’s heard rumors of other people in the neighborhood getting their bikes stolen, and he’d hate to have to store it in the apartment. Not only would it be a real pain in the ass to haul it up and down the stairs every morning, but there’s hardly room in there for the three of them without adding another thing taking up space.

 

Regardless of the cold, he enjoys the ride to the library. As a kid, Fjord had dreamed of being a cowboy; something about the desert, so different from the crowded northern homes he grew up in, appealed to him as an escape, and he’d admired the pictures of long-legged mustangs in books and movies. He never did make it to the desert, though he found some of that freedom in sailing lessons the year and a half he’d lived in a home on a lake, but nowadays he finds himself in this land-locked, cold city and the closest he ever came to riding a horse is the rickety bike he rides half an hour to the public library.

 

Fjord chains up his bike outside the library, which is at least in a nicer area, and walks inside, grateful for the relief from the cold. The lights are on, and sure enough Caleb Widogast is sitting behind the front desk, his nose buried in a book.

 

Either the transmutation track gives an absurd amount of homework, or Caleb reads textbooks for fun. Fjord honestly doesn’t know and doesn’t really want to. He just raises one hand and offers him a quiet, “Hey, Caleb,” receiving a mumbled hello in return and making his way back to the bathroom to change.

 

Emerging now in jeans and a flannel (a gift from Jester, the only one who knows about his old ambitions), he stows his bag behind the desk and goes to start re-shelving the books dropped outside normal hours in the return slot. It was quiet in the library, just the rattle of the old radiator and the squeaking of the wheels on the cart as Fjord went down the aisles. It was always especially quiet right after they opened, though soon people would start to arrive, if only just as a respite from the cold. There were a few regulars who always showed up by the time he had to leave for class – the most intriguing, perhaps, being the purple Tiefling in colorful clothes who liked to play solitaire with what looked like a tarot deck and hand out flyers for the local community theater.

 

He wasn’t sure if the library had a _real_ librarian on staff or not. If it did, he’d never met them. Hell, maybe it was Caleb. He knew Caleb was a student at the same school he went to, but the only other thing he knew about him was that he had a goblin sort-of daughter at home.

 

With the books returned and the library still quiet, Fjord returns to the front desk and sits down next to Caleb, rifling through his bag and pulling out his textbook. He has another paper due tomorrow that he hasn’t started because he was working on the paper due _today_ , and he already feels a headache forming. He thought taking a class on a different school of magic would be good, maybe get him out of a rut, but so far it’s mostly just made him eye those books on warlocks ever so slightly more. It just seems like such an _easier_ solution…

 

He sighs. Whether he sells his soul or not; he still needs to keep his grades up if he ever wants to attend a real magic academy.

 

“Caleb,” he says, and receives a grunt in return. “How the ever-living _hell_ do you turn wood into iron.”

 

That gets his attention, and Caleb fully looks up from his book for the first time all morning. He has the usual bags under his eyes, his usual stringy red hair, and his usual giant mug of coffee on the desk in front of him.

 

“I thought you were studying illusion magic,” he says, cocking his head.

 

Fjord shrugs. “Thought I’d try somethin’ different for a change, but, uh…” he looks at the textbook ruefully. “To be frank, it doesn’t make a lick of sense to me.”

 

“Well, it’s not too terribly complicated. You have to really focus…”

 

Caleb gives a rather detailed explanation that Fjord thinks he understands in theory, but when he places a hand on the table and actually turns a small portion of it to iron, it still looks like arcane sorcery.

 

Which it _is_ , technically, but theoretically it’s arcane sorcery that he should be capable of, too.

 

“That’s… well, it’s real impressive when you do it, Caleb, but I’m startin’ to think I may not have the _capacity_ for magic that you do,” Fjord says, somewhat mournfully.

 

Caleb offers him a hesitant pat on the shoulder, which is a testament to the sheer amount of time they’ve spent working together. Fjord doesn’t think he’s seen Caleb touch a single other humanoid as long as he’s known him.

 

“Don’t get down on yourself, Fjord, I’ve seen you perform some rather impressive magic yourself,” he says, awkwardly withdrawing his hand and fiddling with his book.

 

Fjord shrugs. It’s true that to some extent the basic illusion spells came rather naturally to him – at least, the ones that allowed him to change himself. He generally tried not to think about why that was. It dredged up thoughts he’d long since tried to put behind him.

 

“You’re in a mood today,” Caleb says after a moment of silence, peering at him through narrowed eyes. “What’s going on?”

 

Fjord laughs dryly. “Just tired,” he says, rubbing his eyes. “Stressed. Beau was a handful this morning. She still won’t even look at classes.”

 

Caleb hums sympathetically, and Fjord slumps back against his chair.

 

“I just want the best for her,” he says, staring up at the ceiling. “Her and Jester both. I feel like I’m – responsible for them. Jester especially, but Beau too, but she’s… well, she’s real independent. Which is great and all, ‘cept she never wants to accept help when it’s offered. Hell, I barely got her to come in off the streets and stay with us.” He shakes his head and prods dispassionately at his textbook.

 

“Perhaps you should tell her that,” Caleb offers.

 

Fjord raises one eyebrow. “What, that I want to help her? She’s an idiot, but she’s not stupid. She knows that.”

 

“Perhaps you should tell her anyways,” Caleb says, shrugging.

 

Fjord hums noncommittally, then leans his forearms on the desk and looks at him. “How’s Nott doing, anyhow?”

 

Caleb’s entire demeanor brightens, and he reaches into the pocket of his oversized coat to pull out his wallet as he says, “Oh, good, very good, do you want to see the most adorable picture?”

 

Even before Fjord can gesture for him to go ahead he’s opening his wallet and the lengthy plastic picture holder accordions out of it. Caleb quickly gathers it up and brandishes one of them, and Fjord obligingly leans in to see.

 

It’s Nott, in her ratty little hoodie and her plastic mask hanging off her neck, toothy maw bulging with what look like jawbreakers, clawed hands clutching a plastic bag of them as she grins at the camera like some sort of demonic chipmunk.

 

Nott is far from angelic-looking, but the way Caleb’s entire demeanor turns soft and affectionate at the mere mention of her name goes quite a ways towards endearing her to just about anyone who meets them. Besides, from Caleb’s stories, she’s a perfectly sweet girl, if rather mischievous, though Fjord’s never met her himself.

 

“She’s real sweet,” he says, and Caleb actually grins, turning the picture to look at it himself.

 

“She really is,” he says fondly.

 

Fjord watches him but Caleb appears to have forgotten he even exists, and after a moment he shakes his head and turns back to his book.

 

 _I bet those two never fight_ , he thinks, then chastises himself for being an idiot and gets back to puzzling over ritual circles.

 

The purple Tiefling comes in just as Fjord is getting ready to leave for class, pausing just inside the door to pin a flyer to the bulletin board. Fjord pauses, looking him over, and the Tiefling notices and grins wide.

 

“Good morning, my good man!” he says brightly, and Fjord.

 

“Ah, good morning to you, too,” he says, then after a beat adds, “You know, I see you in here all the time, but I never asked your name—“

 

“Mollymauk,” the Tiefling says with an odd flourish. “Molly to my friends.”

 

“Ah, Fjord,” he replies, awkwardly bobbing his head in return. “Nice to meet you, Mollymauk.”

 

“Molly, please,” Mollymauk says, then brandishes one his flyers in his direction. “Tell me, Fjord, have you ever been to the Curiosities Playhouse?”

 

Fjord blinks. “No, I can’t say I have.”

 

“Well, you should come by sometime. We put on quite the show.” Molly pushes the flyer towards him and Fjord haplessly takes it. Molly grins a pointy-toothed grin and gives him a salute. “I’ll see you there sometime, Fjord! Have a nice day.”

 

He walks back further into the library, and Fjord glances down at the flyer in his hand, advertising (with the use of no less than five different fonts) some play he’s never heard of. Nevertheless, he stuffs it in his backpack. Maybe Jester, at least, will get a kick out of it.

 

\--

 

It’s a long day, spent biking between the community college for class and the library. He eats hunched over a computer in the library typing up his paper, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich packed lovingly by Jester complete with a bad joke written on a sticky note and a piece of chocolate he has no idea where she got. He's not really supposed to eat in there, but Caleb turns a sympathetic blind eye and Fjord always cleans up after himself.

 

The sun has long since set before it's finally time to go home, paper finished and printed and safely stowed away in his bag, and he only has one more stop to make on his way home.

 

The Slayer's Cake near the library is small compared to many of the franchise stores, and run by an middle-aged man and his husband almost as a hobby. Fjord made friends with both of them not long after he started working at the library, and often runs small errands for them in his little free time. In return, he can always count on a little bag left outside the employee entrance down the alley to the side, full of a selection of the day's unsold pastries. It's enough to earn them Fjord's undying loyalty.

 

Jester's already back by the time he gets home, dressed in pajamas, eating reheated soup with one hand and doodling with the other. He calls out a greeting as he walks in and she responds, spewing soup everywhere.

 

With a roll of his eyes, Fjord helps her clean up, then pulls the bag of pastries out of his bag and offers them to her, then puts away his transmutation textbook and drops his sweats on the couch.

 

While he’s occupied, Jester goes through her usual routine of deciding which pastries to set aside for tomorrow's breakfast and abandoning her soup to scarf down the rest. Fjord swiftly rescues it from the ensuing spray of crumbs, and then starts eating it himself, knowing by now that Jester won't be eating anything not made of sugar for the rest of the night.

 

As Jester cheerfully babbles on about her day, Fjord pays just enough to attention to make sure she didn't get hurt or into trouble (at least, serious trouble) and focuses more on finishing the bowl of soup and trying to make sure he hasn't forgotten to do anything today.

 

With a groan, he realizes that he has – he has a test tomorrow, in one of his easier classes but still not something he can afford to fail.

 

Jester stops at the sound and frowns at him, “What?”

 

“Nothin’, Jester,” he says, waving her off and getting up to retrieve the proper book from under the TV.

 

Jester swivels in her chair to watch him. “ _More_ studying?” she asks plaintively, and Fjord gives her an apologetic smile.

 

“Unfortunately,” he says, sitting back down and cracking open the book. “I got a test tomorrow.”

 

“Two papers _and_ a test?” Jester asks, wrinkling her nose. “What a shitty week.”

 

That draws a laugh out of him, and he feels a wave of affection for her. “Yeah,” he says, giving her a lopsided smile. “Pretty much.”

 

“This weekend we’ll do something fun,” Jester declares, sweeping up her crumbs under Fjord’s significant look. “And you won’t have to think about school at all.”

 

Fjord chuckles, his mind drifting to the crumpled flyer in his bag. “Sure, Jester,” he says indulgently. “That sounds like a great idea.”

 

“Of course it does! I thought of it.” Jester brushed the crumbs off her shirt and comes around the table to ruffle Fjord’s hair. “I am going to bed now. The holiday is coming up and there is a lot to do at the temple! I am going to be out all day tomorrow.”

 

“Okay,” Fjord says, reaching up to squeeze her wrist. “Beau’s not back yet?” he asks just to confirm; he wouldn’t think he could miss her, but she has come home and gone right to bed before.

 

Jester shakes his head and Fjord sighs, lowering his hand and offering her a smile. “All right. Good night, Jester.”

 

“Good night!”

 

\--

 

A few hours later and Fjord is not so much studying as he is staring at the page blankly and rubbing his temples to try to fight off his headache. He’s so distracted he misses the door opening entirely, and only looks up when a couple pills drop on the page in front of his eye.

 

Blinking, he looks up to find Beau standing over him, one eyebrow raised.

 

“… Hey,” he says after a long moment, and Beau snorts.

 

“Take the painkillers, you look like an idiot.”

 

Fjord snorts, but he swallows the pills anyway. It’s a bit late, but he’ll take what he can get. He watches Beau silently as she grabs a granola bar out of the pantry and leans against the counter to eat it. She catches him looking and raises her eyebrows challengingly.

 

“What?” she asks.

 

Fjord shakes his head and gathers up his book. “Nothing,” he says, putting the book in his bag to study at the library tomorrow and dropping down onto the couch. To his surprise, Beau drops down to sit beside him.

 

“Hey,” she says.

 

“Hey,” he says back, unsure.

 

Beau looks at him and snorts, then looks away, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

 

“Look, I…” she pauses, takes a deep breath, clearly uncomfortable and in unfamiliar waters. “I was sort of a bitch this morning. And I’m sorry about that. Y’know, a little.”

 

Fjord huffs, amused despite himself. “A little?”

 

She shoots him a glare and he holds his hands up in surrender.

 

“Yeah, a little,” she says, crossing her arms. “I was tired, sue me.”

 

Fjord leans back into the couch cushions, chuckling despite himself. “Yeah, all right.”

 

“Look, I’m serious, asshole,” Beau says, and Fjord smiles and gestures for her to continue. Beau takes another deep breath and shifts awkwardly. “I know I can be… a handful.” She makes a face like the word feels odd in her mouth, making half-hearted finger quotes with both hands.

 

“Beau, it’s okay,” Fjord cuts in. “You’re right, I’m not your dad,” he pretends he doesn’t see the embarrassed flush in her cheeks and continues, “And for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too. I know I can be a little… overbearing.”

 

Beau sighs. “It’s fine,” she says. “I guess I’m just… not used to having someone looking out for me, is all. It’s no big deal,” she adds in a mumble, looking away again.

 

Fjord chuckles again, warmly, and bumps his knuckles against her shoulder. “Well that’s a shame,” he says, “You’ll just have to get used to it.”

 

Beau turns red and shifts around, then mutters, “Shut up,” and shoves him. Fjord goes easily, laying back against the arm of the couch.

 

“Sure,” he says. “So long as you go away now and let me sleep.”

 

Beau frowns at him, looks down at the couch, then back up at him. “Go sleep in the bed, old man.”

 

Fjord raises his eyebrows. “Now one, what do you mean ‘ _old man_ ’—“

 

“No, I’m serious,” Beau says. “C’mon, it’ll help your headache.”

 

Fjord snorts. “No it won’t.”

 

“Yeah it will. The couch fucks up your back and neck, and it messes with your pressure points and chi and shit. Believe me, man, I know this shit.”

 

Fjord narrows his eyes suspiciously, but Beau has a look of wide-eyed earnestness that he never sees on her, and if she really wants him to sleep in the bed so bad, well, he wouldn’t say no to a decent night’s sleep for once.

 

With an overblown sigh, just to be an asshole, Fjord heaves himself off the couch and yawns, stretching his arms up over his head. “Well, if you insist,” he says, and Beau kicks his leg.

 

“G’night, Beau.”

 

“’Night, Fjord.”

 

Fjord grabs his sweats and heads to the bedroom, changing quickly in the dark, plugging his phone in using Beau’s charger, and climbs into the bed with Jester.

 

Jester makes a soft noise like a surprise cat and curls into him without fully waking up. Fjord smiles and wraps his arms around her, reminded of all the times as kids when they would sleep curled up together like this, keeping each other safe and warm in an often cold world.

 

The blue folder is still out there on the coffee table, an unpleasant conversation still hanging in the air. But Fjord is content to let it hang there for now, comfortable for once and warm and satisfied there are no lingering hard feelings in the household. He drops his face into Jester’s hair, releases a deep, contented sigh, and lets himself slip off to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The promised Caleb & Nott centric chapter.

Nott always wakes up early, usually before the sun has risen, and the sounds of her skittering about the cluttered apartment have served as Caleb’s alarm for six months now.

 

It feels like forever already.

 

He gets up, reluctant as always to leave the warm embrace of his bed, and buries himself in layers to keep out the ever-encroaching chill of winter. The apartment already smells like coffee, as Nott figured out quickly that Caleb needs it to survive the morning and just as quickly, angel that she is, took it upon herself to make sure it’s ready for him by the time he has to leave. She hasn’t figured out quite how to properly use the coffee maker and it often comes out far too bitter, but it’s nothing mounds of sugar can’t mask and the proud smile on her face as she hands him the over-sized thermos she’d gotten him (stolen, in all likelihood) for his birthday is worth any amount of bad coffee.

 

“Good morning, Nott,” Caleb calls softly as he stumbles his way over to the light switch. He knocks on the wall as a warning to close her eyes as he flicks it on.

 

With the light on she’s finally revealed, blinking in the sudden brightness. Perched on a chair to reach the counter, dressed in an oversized, ratty hoodie, Nott grins with all her crooked, pointy teeth and squeaks, “Good morning, Caleb!”

 

It’s a sight that never fails to warm his heart.

 

Caleb picks his way around the books that litter the floor to join her, ducking to press a kiss to her cloud of stringy black hair. Nott lets out a please _chirrup_ and headbutts his chin affectionately as he moves away.

 

“We need to get you some warmer clothes,” Caleb says thoughtfully as he rummages around their cupboards to find something to feed them.

 

“I’m okay, Caleb,” Nott says, always quick to downplay her own needs and it breaks his heart every time. He smiles and reaches out to tweak her nose.

 

“Now you are, but it’s getting colder,” he says, “and you’ll drown in my clothes. We’ll go find something you like soon, maybe this weekend.”

 

He doesn’t need to look to know that Nott is ducking her head, still embarrassed to be accommodated, and he also knows acknowledging it will only embarrass her more so he just sets a bowl of cereal on the table and taps beside it to let her know its hers before trading places with her to surreptitiously spoon enough sugar into the coffee she’s made to make it palatable.

 

Frumpkin makes his presence known by jumping up onto the table with a meow, and Nott immediately reaches out to rub his ears. Caleb offers his own, telepathic greeting, and tickles his chin on his way by with his own breakfast.

 

“Is there anything you want from the library, Nott?” he asks through a mouthful of cereal.

 

Nott hums, pausing midway through blowing bubbles in her bowl and Caleb wishes desperately he had a camera on him to capture the look but she’s already pulling away, tapping her chin with one claw. “I liked the book you brought home last week, about magic,” she says, her face transforming from thoughtfulness to eager excitement. “With the pictures? If there’s something else that’s like that, I’d—I’d like to read it,” she finishes meekly, but Caleb’s wide grin coaxes a bashful smile out of her.

 

“Of course I can find something like that,” he says, “Anything else?”

 

“No, just that would be fine,” she says, ducking her head again.

 

Caleb finishes his cereal and drops his bowl in the sink, ruffling her hair as he passes. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and says nonchalantly, “Hey, Nott.”

 

When she looks up, wide-eyed, to see what he wants he snaps a picture of her, and she immediately flushes, swiping at his phone as he raises it out of her reach. “ _Caleb_!” she exclaims, exasperated.

 

“Sorry,” he says cheerfully, putting his phone away and ducking to kiss her forehead. “Stay out of trouble, all right? I’ll be back around the normal time today.”

 

“Okay, Caleb,” Nott says, reaching out to snag his sleeve in one tiny hand. She sounds anxious, as she always does when he leaves, and he wishes he could stay with her but he has work and class to attend to and it’s safer for her here.

 

“I’m going to set the alarm spell then go. Finish your breakfast then try to get some more sleep, Nott, I heard you up all night.”

 

That earns another quiet, “Okay, Caleb,” and Caleb deftly snags the hand clutching his sleeve and gives it a gentle squeeze. Nott returns it, then lets go and returns to her cereal.

 

Caleb points a stern finger at Frumpkin and orders, “Look after her.”

 

Frumpkin just stares at him, but Caleb knows the message has been received. He grabs the thermos and moves off.

 

The ritual for the alarm spell is a familiar one, and ten minutes of quiet concentration and spell work later the door is rigged to alert him if anything enters (or leaves) through it. Wrapping his scarf around his neck and hefting his bag over his shoulder, he calls out one last, “Good-bye, Nott!” and receives a “Good-bye, Caleb!” in return before he turns and goes.

 

\--

 

The library is only a few blocks away, a short walk that feels much longer in the cold. Caleb pulls his scarf up over his nose and shoves his hands in his pockets and walks as quickly as he can.

 

The library, when he unlocks the front door with the keys in his bag and steps inside, is barely warmer than the outside. He flicks the lights on, turns the heat up, and takes his normal seat behind the front desk, pulling a thick text on transmutation out and cracking it open as he takes advantage of the quietest part of his day.

 

Fjord always arrives a little later, huffing slightly from the bike ride and lugging a backpack over one shoulder. His presence, fortunately, is entirely inoffensive: he rarely interrupts his reading with more than a brief greeting, just changes out of his usual sweats and goes right to work. In all his years working at the library, Fjord is perhaps his favorite coworker.

 

The rest of the day is passed similarly: answering questions, helping patrons check out books, and in between studying. He sighs when, predictably, he gets the familiar mental _ping_ that someone has used the door to their apartment, and just a moment of slipping into Frumpkin’s eyes reveals his familiar trailing Nott down a city street. She’s been sneaking out less now that it’s getting colder, but she still goes most days. The occasional glimpse through Frumpkin generally reveals her pickpocketing, but he would’ve guessed that anyways.

 

He never questions Nott about the money and trinkets she brings home, but he does make a point of teaching her the safest places to go if she were to go out.

 

He knows he can’t force her to stay cooped up all the time, but he worries.

 

He shows Fjord the picture he took of her that morning; Fjord’s sweet-toned compliments are a large part of why Caleb likes him.

 

By the time it’s time to go home, his eyes are itching and the words on the page are starting to blur together. He’s not sure how long ago the sun set, but the flat darkness outside the windows, broken only by the halos of the street lights, implies it’s been a while. It’s past official closing time – Fjord shooed out the last patrons when he went, but Caleb usually stays behind a little longer to take advantage of the quiet and finish his assignments.

 

Before he goes, he makes a stop in the magic section of the library. The book he’d brought home for Nott last week was a rudimentary spell book meant for children just beginning to study magic, and he finds a similar volume to check out and stow safely away in his bag.

 

The walk home feels much shorter, a bounce in his step spurred on by the thought of what’s waiting for him.

 

\--

 

The lights are all off when he opens the door, which is not at all unusual; Nott, with her darkvision, often turns them off and then forgets to them back on again. Caleb thinks the darkness makes her feel safe.

 

Regardless, he keeps the entranceway clear with darkness in mind, and puts away his boots, scarf, coat and bag with the ease of long practice, calling out as he does, “I’m back, Nott!”

 

There’s a skittering noise, then a squeal of “ _Caleb_!” and Caleb catches Nott as she flings herself up into his arms, a not-unimpressive feat for someone so small.

 

He laughs brightly and swings her around, the cares of the day falling away as he bumps his forehead against Nott’s.

 

“Hey there,” he says softly, grinning, as she nuzzles her head against his. “How was your day?”

 

“Good,” Nott chirps, squirming in Caleb’s grip until he lets her down and turns the lights on. “Did you bring the book?” she asks shyly.

 

Caleb grins and pulls it out of his bag. “Yes, of course. Do you want to eat dinner before you start reading it?”

 

“I ate already!” Nott says quickly, reaching up and snatching the book out of Caleb’s hands, drawing a startled laugh out of him. “Thanks, Caleb! C’mon, Frumpkin!”

 

She tucks the book under one arm and grabs the cat rubbing against Caleb’s leg to demand attention, hoisting him up and darting off with him. Nott doesn’t have a bed so much as a nest of sorts, a pile of cushions and pillows and blankets suitable for burrowing in, and she makes a beeline for it, humming to herself.

 

Caleb watches her go, smiling softly, then goes to heat up some leftover takeout for his own dinner.

 

They go to bed early, or at least Caleb does. He’s so tired, most days, and rarely gets the chance to actually sleep his fill; around exam times, especially, he’ll stay up long into the morning poring over a book, so jittery from too much caffeine he can barely turn the pages.

 

But he doesn’t have any pressing assignments, tonight, and for once he lets himself roll into bed not long after eating, cocooning himself in his old, worn quilt with murmured good-nights to Nott.

 

Not long after that, the bed dips slightly as she crawls up next to him, curling up with her back against his almost shyly. Wordlessly, Caleb rolls over, opening his blankets to envelop Nott and pull her in against his chest. Nott lets out a soft noise of surprise, then flips over and burrows into him.

 

Caleb wraps his arms around her and here, with Nott safe and happy in his arms, in the warmth and dark of their home and Frumpkin’s slight weight across his ankles, Caleb sleeps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not thrilled with how this came out, but i couldnt _not_ include a chapter about the book dad and his goblin daughter


End file.
